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MEMORIAL ODE 

For the FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY 

of the FOUNDING 0/RACINE 

COLLEGE 

RACINE WISCONSIN 

X JUNII MCMII 

By 

Wallace Rice 



Vigeat Radix! 




Privately Printed at 

THE BLUE SKY PRESS 

CHICAGO MCMII 






^ 




PRING airily passing with a buoyant tread 
For hastening Summer her best gift has 

spread, 
Of delicate flowers, 
/That leave man thankful and his thought a-thrill, 
The glowing coronal: The roses spill 

Their attar on the little sill 

- 

That parts their month of June, 
^Recalling fortunate hours 
.When Summer, like a night-moth, hovers o'er 

Her exquisite parterre; 
"Recalling earlier bliss — 

Spring's fresh-faced heralds at her pageant's head: 

The apple-bloom, April's anemones, 

May's iris, Paschal lilies; and the breeze, 

June-born, of all the year the kiss 

Most sweetly breathed. These memories, 

How tender-vivid to the mind, yet soon 

Bedimmed as any filmy matin moon! 

A twilight aureole glimmering there 

Above the springtides gone 

And vernal suns that shone — 

To warm the earth and cheer the soul no more! 

Tf So all of us, 

I' the summer of our life and vigorous 

With ripened manhood, come together here 

To stand beside the flower-laden bed 



Of boyhood and lost youth that was our Spring, 

Fulfilled of recollections blossoming 

Rose-like, innocent-white, with virginal flush, 

Daintily golden, saffron, crimson-red; 

Till, on a sudden, with misty eyes, 

Grief in our throat, 

We muse in sad surprise — 

The madrigal we'd sing as soon a-hush 

As ever ceased the note 

Of startled hermit thrush — 

With one deep sigh for all the grace 

Of the dear days so dead, 

That had been once so fully comforted 

In this dear place, 

This spot so wholly dear! 

A laughing lad, — 
Nor knew how glad! — 
The morning-glories bind 
'Their beauties to the chapel door 
And bless his matins daily o'er 
With grace but half divined. 

O hopes unsped, 
O youth far fled, 
And years with fluttering feet , 
How fitly the convolvulus 
Bloomed through you, frailly glorious ', 
Fair, evanescent, fleet! 



II 

^[ Racine: Unto her feet from the far North 

A living amethystine sea comes forth, 

Sleeping to-day in splendour, thundering 

To-morrow 'gainst the bluffs, a lustful thing 

Bent on destruction; yet with outspread wing 

Ships pass, a mighty navy laden deep, 

Upon the waves, awakened or asleep. 

Embowering all its resonant shores are set 

Huge forests where are met 

In tints of malachite and chrysoprase 

A myriad tossing, plumy sprays — 

Of tremulous poplar, and the choiring pine, 

The whispering alder, black-stoled oak, 

The stately walnut in her emerald cloak, 

And fragrant birch, as pale and fine 

As studious youth. To swell this azure sea 

The river runs, a city fair 

Beside the pleasant waters meeting there, 

As cunning workmen set a gem 

To mark the joining of a diadem. 

And here the vast-horizoned prairies come, 

Full, multitudinous, with the busy hum 

Of insects, and the mating-songs of birds, 

And flashes of bright blossoms, lowing herds, 

And clustering farmsteads filled with happy folk. 

^f The sea, the wood, 



The river and the plain combine 

To beautify a sacred spot, where all is good; 

Where even the tiny griefs of long ago 

By filtering years have all been strained away 

To let a stream of limpid mirth outflow 

And grant us many an old delight to-day. 

Long, long our schoolboy days, 
With weary storms within them 
And what was poignant pain; 
Tet through fond years the rays 
Of sunlight sparkle in them: 
'There are no hours of rain; 

Long vivid days alone, 

Short dreamless nights a-many, 
The surer joy to know — 
Silver our locks have grown. 
And brief the days, nor any 
Still nights until we go. 

Ill 

If On lake and river in their frail canoe, 
Through virgin forests and the trackless plain, 
The black-robed priests their dauntless way pursue 
That o'er the wilderness our God may reign; 
The standard of the Cross is here unfurled, 
The wondering savage hears the blessed Word, 
And this our western land is given the world 



Forever consecrated to the Lord. 

The ages roll; great conflicts breed despair; 

Until another band of holy men, 

Whose memorable names our buildings bear, 

Advance the standard of the Cross again. 

In sunshine and in shade they persevere, 

Their temple structure laying deep and broad, 

Their message to the world proclaiming clear: 

The greater glory of the living God! 

And not with brick and stone alone they build, 

But delving deeply in the human heart 

They labour that the years may see fulfilled 

In souls within their care the better part. 

How shall we thank them — we who here have 

learned 
To keep within our hearts the loveliness 
For which the greatest of the earth have yearned 
And, finding, found not tongues enough to bless? 
Through lengthening years have passed in love and 

truth 
From this dear spot to-day in jubilee 
A host of clean-mouthed lads, straight-bodied 

youth, 
Clear-minded men, in all good modesty. 
With humbleness of mind to see life whole, 
One law of love toward all mankind to keep, 
And, every day, in body, mind, and soul, 
The harvest of the seeding here to reap. 



Let us give praise to-day to those who taught 
Us, loved us, made us true, but most of all 
To that compassionate soul of whom the thought 
Is ever highest duty's trumpet-call! 

De Kovens holy life our own life crowned; 
Still are we kneeling at the altar , near 
His white-robed presence, as with accents clear 
His tones august with mild-eyed wisdom sound. 

He smiles upon us — never had he frowned 
Had not our sins provoked the thought austere. 
He loved us, lived and died for us, and here 
We weep, for whom he shed full many a tear. 

man of God, just, merciful, white-gowned 
Before the Throne, we live in holy fear 
Because you taught it us; healing each wound 

In childish hearts with words of lofty cheer: 
And all we have and all we call renowned. 
We lay in reverence at your sacred bier\ 

IV 

Tf This is our Jubilee. Once more as boys 

We leave behind the cities' desperate noise, 

The ruck and pettiness of daily life, 

The world's most piteous and unpitying strife, 

To seek the shelter of this cloistered spot 

And feel its happier lot. 

We lay aside the mask of riper years 



Which hides our better selves, makes bold our fears, 

And keeps affection coward; we look in eyes 

We loved so long ago 

With gaze grown wise 

And unashamed and loving, ardently; 

We doff the panoply 

Which men adopt lest without wile 

The youthful pulse be seen 

To beat, now high, now low; 

We think no more upon 

The pitiful distinctions we would make 

Among ourselves, some granted us, few won; 

And hand meets hand and smile meets smile 

With the rare thought that we must slake 

Our thirst at the same fountain, breathe 

The same blue air, aud finally wreathe 

The same sad flowers when we part. 

Now lies the heart 

That once was bare in innocence 

Before our fellows, bare from choice; 

Now we are blithesome lads who have not hence 

Departed and may still rejoice, 

Still champions of bat and ball and book, 

Or idling in some favourite nook, 

Still singing with a clear and high-pitched voice 

The anthems, glees, and hymns 

That lifted growing souls above this earth, 

Still creatures of a thousand childish whims 



With calculation lost in mirth. 

^[ Yet what a change has come to us: 

'T was yesterday, and "DulceDomum" rang 

Forth to the clouds to speed us far away 

Where we had thought a marvellous 

New happiness would rise; to-day 

We leave our homes, without a pang 

To find them half-forgotten, carolling 

Domum dulcissimum unto our Queen, 

In reverence at her purple robe to cling 

And make our vows, for ever, to Racine! 

Jesity who, 'Thyself a boy, 
Smiled upon our childish joy , 
May each thought of early glee 
Give us deeper loyalty. 

Jesu, who, Thyself a man, 
Wept when manhood's woe began, 
Let our later grief and tears 
Bind us to more joyful years. 

Jesu, who art very Lord, 
Bless us gathered at this board; 
Bless our brothers far away, 
Sharing in our love to-day. 

Jesu, boy and man and God, 

When we part for paths untrod 

One at heart still may we be, 

Each for each, and all for Thee. Amen. 



THE MEADOW-LARK REHEARD 




THE MEADOW-LARK REHEARD 

(A Reminiscence of Racine) 

NTO the silent, brooding twilight swell 
Three slender silver notes in fairy chime, 
Galling my soul back to the earlier time 
When I had loved the meadow-lark's soft 
bell 

Yet did not know it Spring. Three notes, all sweet, 
I knew, but not the budding hours that bade 
Them to my ear; nor was a witless lad 
To miss the Springtime so: My eyes still greet 
Through dimming years that lovely morning scene 
With cool, clear blue above, growing more deep 
Within the pool where half the sky could steep 
In its own distillations; pale clear green 
Below, a plain new set with emerald; 
And that sweet bird upon a tender tree 
Whose leaves were little for their infancy. 
From that low throne the medlark softly called ! 
Unto my heart, and hailed the matin sun 
So fitly that for years no lark could sing 
Save in that gently splendid light. Still, Spring 
I knew not then, nor prayed another one 
Might come or might withhold, nor thought a day 
Would ever end which could seem near so fair 
As the brief, unconsidered radiance there 
In boyhood's half-held, half-forgotten May. 
If Ah me! but now those three soft notes I heard 
Merging into the evening as the light 



Of the new shimmering moon made less than bright 

The phantom earthshine in her arms. The bird 

I saw not; yet again in life I know 

Its sweet tune ne'er '11 be heard unless for bride 

Unto its beauty walks the moon beside — 

The maiden moon all melody and glow — 

And always in the Spring. I know Spring's wreath 

Of glory now, with watching through the weeks 

The slowly lengthening ray that slowlier seeks 

The door to Earth's great treasury beneath 

The sod, where lucent fruit and jewelled bloom 

Sleep lightly till their day of beauty come; 

Till Nature weeps and laughs; till bright bees 

hum, 
And spreading trees for birds make bridal room — 
I know this now, and did not know it then 
Nor care. Then all the year was Spring. Then 

Spring 
Was in my heart and soul; and larks could sing, 
Or snows could fall, or mortal woes stir men, 
And leave me heedless, happy, and a boy. 
Tf And now, because the gold-breast songster 

creeps 
Into my life anew; because there leaps 
Into my later thought that earlier joy; 
Therefore a riper happiness is born to me, 
And visions twain, best of all Time has spun, 
Are mine henceforth: The lark and the matin sun 
When every moment meant felicity; 
The lark and westering moon after salt tears 
Had found me. Yesterday the thought of Spring 
Without was all I had within; to-day I sing 
Those tender notes sweet through the years. 



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